


it feels like belonging

by nezstorm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Future Fic, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 02:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13777641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezstorm/pseuds/nezstorm
Summary: It starts the way Boyd remembers colds to: he feels a chill in his bones, a slight fog over his thoughts and heaviness to his steps. The edges of the world blurring.





	it feels like belonging

It starts the way Boyd remembers colds to: he feels a chill in his bones, a slight fog over his thoughts and heaviness to his steps. The edges of the world blurring.

He becomes even quieter than usual. His silences turning from calm and comforting to tense and heavy, weighting on the room. His brows feel like they’re constantly furrowed, eyes troubled and dulling. His chest feels heavier with every day and his breath shorter. Like no matter how much he inhales he can’t get enough air into his lungs.

The colors around him are vapid and gray.

He loses appetite, loses will to do anything but sleep. He’s lethargic and almost completely lifeless, slow where he used to be so fast. It’s as if his werewolf senses, all that came with being a wolf, got torn from him, like it took more than it gave.

And he just doesn’t know why, no one knows really. But he finds it harder and harder to care.

He doesn’t even feel like going to Deaton, but no one asks him if he does. They stopped asking about things he wants after he stopped being able to tell. Isaac and Erica simply pull him out of bed and help him into a pair of sweats before Derek drives them to the clinic.

Deaton gets this considering look when the situation is explained to him and starts asking questions that feel like he’s hinting at something, but Boyd can’t even make himself listen. He just slumps in the chair Scott pulled out for him when he kept listing to the side, not even interested in staying upright.

He just wants to go home and sleep, just sleep, make the dullness go away.

Because when he sleeps he dreams in vivid color and rich sound; he dreams of moonlit skin, marked with constellations. He dreams of blazing eyes and a laugh so bright it warms him whole, he dreams of gentle fingers skimming his skin in a caress so soft it makes him ache.

And it seems so familiar, the figure in his dreams. But he wakes up before he can figure it out and then just waits for sleep to take him again.

All the while Derek and Scott and Isaac, Allison and Erica; they are all trying to come up with a cause, recalling the monsters they were fighting in the last two weeks because that’s when it all started or at least became palpable. When they noticed that there was something amiss.

They’re all old arguments. They’ve been going through it all for a few days now. But over their chatter Boyd sees Deaton studying him, deep in thought, before he pulls out his phone and dials a number.

“Hello, Stiles.” Deaton says into the phone and everything in the room stills.

Stiles, who went with his dad to visit his aunt in Sacramento three weeks ago; greets Deaton warily and asks what’s wrong, obviously concerned.

Boyd hears his voice over the speaker, unusually clear as if the fog on his senses momentarily lifted. And something unclenches in his chest and for the first time in what feels like forever he breathes.

 

* * *

 

Stiles gets back home as soon as he can.

They haven't told him what's going on, but he knows that something is wrong otherwise Deaton wouldn't have called him. Deaton never calls first.

Besides, while he doesn't want to say he's homesick since his dad is there with him, he's been feeling this urge to go back home. Kept feeling like he forgot something important. Like there was something wrong.

He tells his dad that something is up and that he wants to go, wants to go alone and let his father enjoy the long deserved vacation. But the sheriff just packs his bag and follows because after all this time he knows he can't stop Stiles from getting into danger and he'd rather go with to make sure everything is good.

They're off and on their way within the hour. And with each mile closer to Beacon Hills the nagging feeling in Stiles’ chest lessens.

But not in a way that a chill goes away. It kind of shapes like a laser pointer, thins into a string that pulls him forwards. Pulls him back to where he belongs.

Hours later he's crossing the town border and the string is pulled taut and once he steps out of the car he just tells his dad he's got a place to be and starts walking. Allowing himself to be led.

It takes him a while but he recognizes where it might be leading him, the place being the Hale House. Which feels so obvious and also not at all.

He's halfway there when he spots that someone is walking in his direction, a few steps more and he knows it's Boyd. There’s no way he would recognize him: towering and strong, beautiful in a way the ocean is – calm and murderous at the same time.

He’s still being pulled onward and closer he gets the more his skin tingles, warms, like he's closing up on his destination. When he finally stops in front of Boyd, so little space between them, he can still feel that pull, but it's centered and he knows, in a way, what it's leading him to, who it was leading him to.

Boyd is looking at him, face open: vulnerable, apprehensive, but eyes hopeful.

They’re both silent. There's a calm to the moment that Stiles doesn't want to disturb with words, a thrill to it like nothing he ever felt. It’s a bit like excitement, and quite a lot like awaiting.

But there's this slight tugging still and he reaches out ever so slowly and places his hand on Boyd's chest, right atop where he can feel the staccato of Boyd’s heart.

It's jackrabbiting when he first touches, but it soon calms and so does Stiles, and Boyd is smiling down at him; a soft quirk to his lips Stiles has never really seen before.

It feels like home, this moment, like finding something long forgotten.

Boyd reaches up as well, holds the hand on his chest trapped, and his eyes are set on Stiles and it's so warm, that gaze, so welcoming. Beckoning.

Stiles’ heart finally settles when Boyd whispers a soft "Hi" against the corner of his lips.


End file.
